What Is
by paperwingsandbrokenlegs
Summary: Just a little Christmas fic for y'all. Disclaimer: Don't own Pearl Harbor or the characters. They belong to Michael Bay, Randall Wallace and a bunch of guys on whom such gorgeousness is wasted. You think I'd be writing fics if I owned Danny?


Hi y'all! MERRY CHRISTMAS!

this is my little christmas gift to y'all readers. perhaps you'd like to bring me a little christmas cheer by leaving a review, hmmm? lol.

XXXXX

December 25th, 1940

Amidst the rowdy, drunken partiers in 325th Fighter Squadron barracks were three sober figures. The first of these was Red Winkle, who had drawn the short straw and was in charge of keeping watch just in case a higher-ranking officer decided to come and check the barracks for illicit booze. This was not a probable eventuality, since the officers were likely to be in their own barracks getting piss drunk themselves. Second was Danny Walker, who hardly ever ventured out of sobriety and saw no reason to break his usual fastidiousness just because it was Christmas. Last but certainly not least was Rafe MacCawley, who was not so much sober as he was occupied with an extremely important task. He had received a package in the mail yesterday from his new beau, a certain Navy nurse named Evelyn Johnson and now was the time to open it.

Under normal circumstances, the opening of a gift would take merely seconds but these were not normal circumstances. It was a pretty little thing, the gift; wrapped in shiny, dark green wrapping paper and bound with a red and white ribbon like only a woman could manage. Too much effort had gone into it for him to heartlessly rip the packaging off thoughtlessly. Slowly, he peeled off the cellophane tape bit by bit so as not to damage the paper, all the while wondering why his heart was beating as hard as it was. After a while, the green paper opened up to reveal the tartan tin hidden within its folds and he gently eased it out onto his bunk. Here it was; the moment of truth.

Cookies. Inside the tin was a generous amount of dark, nut-studded cookies. Rafe smiled. He remembered telling her on a date that he loved double-chocolate chip cookies, and she had clearly remembered. And he knew, somehow, that she had baked these herself; these cookies bore the oddly-shaped, burnt-ends, home-made hallmark of tender loving care, as opposed to cold, dead store-bought cookies. Maybe this girl was as crazy about him as he was about her.

It was a glorious feeling, and Rafe was suddenly filled with love for mankind. He looked around the room, taking in the sight of revelling pilots; the men he had lived and trained with for the past 4 years. There was Anthony, too drunk to stand but trying to make a toast all the same. And there was Joey, pushing a drink into Red's sober hands, no doubt sorry for the watchman, while Billy tried desperately to reattach some tinsel he had managed to pull off the wall. And there, in a corner all by himself, was Danny, watching the party with a bemused but fond look in his expressive eyes.

He made his way to Danny's side and held out the tin of cookies, offering his friend what he had yet to taste. "Here, have one."

Danny needed no further invitation; he never did when it came to Rafe's food. The smile on his face as he took a bite of what had to be the most delicious cookie on earth was reward enough.

"Where'd you get these?"

"Evelyn sent them."He couldn't help the smile that accompanied the words, and Danny laughed.

"You've fallen for her, haven't you?"

"Shut up." He bit into one of the cookies. It was delicious. Rafe closed his eyes to fully relish the taste, and opened them to find Danny staring at him. Rolling his eyes, he held out the tin again. "Merry Christmas, bro."

Danny smiled as he helped himself. "Merry Christmas."

XXXXX

_December 20th, 1924_

_Even Ms. Barrow was in the Christmas mood; instead of the usual hateful spelling lessons that she gave on Fridays, she had instead asked them to write letters to Santa. She had reminded the class to spell properly, but Rafe was pretty sure that Santa did not mind the odd mistake here and there. One by one, the class filed over to the teacher's desk to hand their carefully worded letters to her and Rafe noted that Danny was one of the first to do so. His friend really was smart; spelling was never a problem for him. _

_Once everyone was done, Ms. Barrow gathered the pieces of paper and stood in front of the class. "Let's read the letters, shall we?"_

_There were choruses of yes and no from the class, the former being louder. Rafe fell into that camp; if he knew what Danny wanted for Christmas, he could see if the set of books his parents got for him came close. Ms. Barrow began reading, and started with Augustine's letter. _

"_Dear Santa, I want a pony this Christmas. If you give me a pony, I won't ever ask for anything ever again."_

_She smiled and went on to Charles' letter. _

"_Santa, my mommy says I'm going to have a baby sister this Christmas. Can I please exchange her for a train set? Thanks." She looked up, lips twitching. "Very well-written Charles, but you misspelt exchange."_

_Next was Danny's letter. A glance to his left revealed a very unhappy looking Danny and he wondered why this was. It was not like he had to worry about spelling errors._

"_Dear Santa, I don't want anything for myself this year. I've got everything I need. I know Rafe has already got something for me because he's the best friend I've ever had, but I have no money to buy him anything. So could-" the teacher's voice trembled slightly "could you please give Rafe anything he asks for instead?"_

XXXXX

December 24th, 1941

It was Christmastime again, as it always was this time of the year, but nobody quite knew what to do. On the one hand, there was this distinct feeling of triumph and thirst for life amongst the men, for having survived the most disastrous day of their lives and the need to celebrate that life. On the other hand, the raw pain and grief of losing loved ones still ran deep, and not enough time had passed for them to be able to shrug it off. Never again would Billy tear down the tinsel. Never again would Joey play bartender for them. Yet, even at this low point, two figures appeared more sombre than most. First of these was Red, who had lost his beloved fiancée on that day and who mourned her loss deeply on this hallowed day. And then there was Rafe, who had also lost his girl, but in a different and slightly less painful sense.

Doolittle had given them the day off, but Rafe suspected it was because he wanted to spend the day with his wife and children; why someone with so much to lose wanted to lead this suicide mission he knew not. He did not have to. Rafe supposed it was this solidarity with the fighting men that earned the colonel his God-like status wherever he went. To command troops in a battle was no easy task, but to be there at the frontlines with them, facing death on a principle, took no small amount of courage.

Truth be told, Rafe was glad that Doolittle managed to wrangle them onto his team. Not only did he trust the colonel with his life, having trained under him came with benefits of its own. First and foremost was that Doolittle knew well enough, and respected, that Danny's place was by Rafe's side. He shuddered to think of what might have happened under a different officer; they might have been transferred to opposite ends of the war or told to head teams of their own within the mission itself. Had that happened, there would have been no way for him to keep an eye on his friend, who by rights should not even be here. It was not just the fact that this mission was dangerous or that war in general was dangerous; Danny was one of those people, who because of his loving and forgiving nature, just did not fit into the machine of war.

He wished he could go back to simpler times, when he knew what he felt and why. Now he was torn between worry and anger most of the time, and it was tiring not to have anyone to turn to, because the very people whom he could trust were the ones who had betrayed him in the first place. Yet, every time he thought that way, he felt guilty since Danny and Evelyn did not technically cheat on him. It was all so confusing.

Looking up, Rafe noticed that Danny was nowhere to be seen. It was just as well. At least he would have a few minutes to mope in peace.

When his friend remained missing after half an hour had passed, Rafe began to get curious. Where on earth could Danny have disappeared to? Since he had nothing better to do anyway, he decided to take a walk around base camp and keep an eye out for his friend at the same time.

The base was largely empty, and unusually quiet as a result. The army of mechanics that had been working on lightening the B-25s had all gone home to their families for the weekend, with strict instructions not to reveal anything related to their work here. It seemed that everyone except the pilots were home. Rafe smiled bitterly at the thought; where the hell would he go anyway? All he thought about was returning to Evelyn, but that was out of the question now.

He walked past the small chapel and figured that it was a good time as any to acknowledge God's existence, nevermind his twisted sense of humour. Upon entering, it became clear that he was not the only one with religious inclinations at the moment; Danny stood at the altar, back turned to the door, completely oblivious to everything else. As Rafe stepped closer, he noticed that he was lighting candles.

"Hey," he said softly, feeling like an intruder.

Danny looked up, hand freezing in the motion of reaching for an unlit candle. He had already built up a row of 5 on the small table, and they twinkled merrily where they stood.

Rafe sat down in the first pew. "Are you lighting them just 'cause, or is there some meaning behind each candle?"

"They come in boxes of twelve."

It was a typical Danny non-answer. "And?"

Danny quietly sighed. "It's gratitude. Just…saying thanks for what is."

"What is?"

"Y'know, the way things are."

What Danny had said made perfect sense; there was plenty they had to be thankful for, beginning with living past that day, but it was the way he phrased it that rubbed Rafe the wrong way.

"Yeah, 'cause the way things are is just peachy. This is exactly how we envisioned our lives playing out, ain't it? Half the people we know are dead, and the other half heading for certain death." There was also the added matter of them fighting over a girl, but there was no need for him to mention that for the both of them to understand that it was included in the list of what made the-way-things-are less than perfect.

Looking away, Danny mumbled "There is not a day or night that a mother does not offer her life for her children, or an honest captain his life for his commander's. But there is no bargain. What is, is what must be."

Rafe was not in the mood for Danny's cryptic nonsense at the moment, and left his friend to light the remainder of his candles alone.

xxxxx

Christmas arrived unheralded and unmarked by the sleeping pilots; some of whom were really asleep and some of whom were feigning sleep. Rafe tossed and turned unhappily in his bed, feeling guilty for his heated exchange with Danny earlier. Maybe he was being a bit thick when he suggested that Rafe should just accept the way things were just because it was what it was, and quoting scripture to boot, but he was probably in a miserable mood to begin with. And instead of bringing a little Christmas cheer to the poor boy, Rafe probably _scratch that, definitely_ went and made it worse.

Turning to his left, Rafe caught sight of Danny's sleeping form curled under the blankets. It was taking him a little while to get used to the mild Virginia winter after Hawaii's tropical heat. In sleep, he looked younger than his twenty-odd years and reminded Rafe that despite his maturity, Danny was in reality only just out of his teenage years; there was something almost unnatural in the way he carried the weight of the world and yet retained such childlike innocence at the same time.

It was the way he said it. What is, is what must be. Rafe was lying in the dark contemplating the truth of that statement when he realised, rather epiphanically, that he had been focusing on the wrong part of the quotation. What was that Danny had said before that? Something about mothers offering their lives for their children. What did that have to do with their lives now? Danny had a very layered thought process sometimes, and it made him difficult to follow. He was grateful that mothers could not sacrifice themselves for their children? He looked at Danny again, sleeping on his right side even though he normally ended up on left; personally, Rafe was glad that he had changed a lifetime's sleeping habits because now he could see Danny's untroubled face as he rested. It occurred to him now that it made it just as easy for Danny to keep an eye on him too.

And just like that, Rafe knew.

He wished he did not. He wished he could erase the knowledge and go back to the ignorant patsy he was merely moments ago. Still, Rafe was not a man to sit on his haunches when things needed fixing. Taking one last glance at his sleeping friend, he slipped out of the barracks, determined to right some wrongs.

xxxxx

He was almost done with the task when he heard the door creak behind him, followed by a soft "Rafe?"

Danny stood just inside the chapel, eyes squinted with sleep, apparently having followed him here after waking up and finding him gone. It was just as well; he would have had to go and get him after he was done anyway.

"Hey," Rafe responded brightly, lighting the last candle and setting it on the altar. Every flat surface in the small chapel had a few candles on it, and the combined twinkling of flames filled the room with a warm glow. It lit up the stained glass montage of Mary looking lovingly upon her newborn son, giving her eyes an almost lifelike sparkle.

"What're y'doin?" Danny was apparently still too sleepy to speak in coherent sentences, but his eyes widened as he took in the beautiful sight.

"You gave me a good idea back then, I guess. We do have a lot to be thankful for and I figured now's a good time as any to remind the Big Guy to give us more of that good luck."

Danny went quiet for a while as his eyes roamed around the room, an innocent sort of joy filtering into his expression; it was precisely that look that made all of this worth the time and effort it took. Then he said "Do the candles mean anything?"

"Yeah. There's one for everyone we know." Rafe pointed to a bunch he placed at the foot of the stained glass window. "Those are for the ones we lost that day."

A touch of sadness crept into the atmosphere, but it felt right; barely 2 weeks had passed since their deaths, and they deserved to be mourned. Danny's face reflected the anguish he never spoke of and Rafe wondered how he found the strength to carry on feeling each loss so personally. Most people grieved from a distance, but not Danny.

"And those are for the guys in the mission with us," he continued, pointing to a formation of candles sitting on a bookbinder. "And those three," he added, coming to stand by the three candles in the middle of the altar "are for Evelyn, you and the fact that I can't think of better people for either of you to end up with."

Danny did not say anything; he did not have to. His eyes said everything he could not and Rafe knew those eyes better than his own.

They sat down together in the first pew, shoulders and knees brushing together lightly. It was a long time since he felt such companionship with anyone, and Rafe basked in the feeling, knowing that he still had something unpleasant to deal with.

"Danny?"

"Hmm?"

"You know that thing you said earlier about what is and all that? Where'd you learn that?"

The stiffening of his friend's previously relaxed figure was impossible to miss. There was silence, as though Danny was giving him a chance to take back his question. Finally, he sighed.

"After you were gone, I started to log in a lot of flight hours. Figured the only way to drown out the fact was to keep busy, y'know? It got to the point where I was so tired I could barely move, but I just couldn't sleep."

Danny spoke softly, but Rafe heard every word and every little inflection in his voice; heard everything he did not want to hear. It was easier to be angry with Danny than to listen to what drove him to seek comfort with Evelyn. It was easier to be righteous when he did not know the extent of the pain he had inflicted on the people he claimed to love.

"So I went out and got drunk. Forgot how to put one foot in front of the other, but couldn't forget that I was alone. Somehow I ended up in a church. I prayed for them to be wrong. Prayed for God to take me instead. Apparently I was praying out loud." Danny smiled, but it was without humour. "The pastor came over and he told me that. I guess that was when I finally accepted that you weren't coming back."

"Danny, man…" Rafe was at a loss for words. How was he to explain the wrongness of the whole idea? "I spend my whole life looking out for you, and the one time I turn my back you're out there trying to get killed."

Danny half-smiled bitterly. "Tried. And failed."

They sat in silence for a while, watching the candles flicker and blaze; shining so brightly and yet dying at the same time. Outside the sky was growing lighter. It was still dark enough that to call it anything other than night was lying, but it was not as dark as it had been earlier. It captured without words exactly how Rafe felt at the moment. Sure, things were far from perfect, but now he could see a way through the mess that their lives were.

"Maybe I just stay here and then you wouldn't have to try. Or fail. Whaddaya say?"

This time Danny's smile was genuine, and it dimpled his cheeks. "Sounds good."

"Yeah? Merry Christmas, bro."

"Merry Christmas."

XXXXX

God, i'm such a sap sometimes.


End file.
